


Curses and Angels

by Anilkex



Series: You Are The Third Winchester [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curses, Gen, Sickfic, You Are The Third Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2196198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anilkex/pseuds/Anilkex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this story, something's amiss with the Winchester brothers, forcing a retreat to Bobby's in an effort to figure it all out.  Set in the You Are The Third Winchester AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curses and Angels

**Author's Note:**

> If you're not familiar with my AU, please check my profile for the background.
> 
> There is no second chapter to this story - my Third Winchester AU fics are all one shots, even though they tend to be long ones. Stories tend to follow a timeline of sorts, but I don't pick things up in different chapters.

“Would you _fucking_ quit _hovering_ over me? _Jesus_ , just give me some space!”

“You have _plenty_ of fucking space, Sam. You hole up in every motel room, barely helping, _all the fucking time_. Reminding you we have a job to do, _isn’t hovering._ ”

“Bullshit! We’ve been hunting nonstop for over two months, Dean. Hunting means watching each other, sharing shitbag motel rooms, and being trapped in the car for hours on end. _That’s hovering._ I’m just _sick_ of it.”

We were in the back corner of some local bar where I was lucky enough to have ringside seats to yet another argument between my brothers. Since we were in public, they were using their “inside” angry voices. It was like watching a really bad ping pong match on TV, and the game replayed every...single...day...for two months. I sat between them, counting the bubbles in my beer, praying I wouldn’t get dragged into the fight. 

Dean growled, “So what, now we can’t do what we do? We can’t work? We have to sit at home and twiddle our thumbs because you need some ‘me-time’?”

“For-fucking-give me if finding out I have fucking _demon blood_ in me is upsetting. I feel like I haven’t had any time to even fucking process that, let alone figure out what to do about it!” Sam was hostile-whispering, accenting almost every word with a finger jab at the table, his chest or towards Dean.

“Oh, fuck you, Sam.” Dean tossed a used napkin on the table, with a huff. “All you’ve _done_ is think about it, and you know _damn well_ Dad’s been looking into it. You just want a basement pity-party with a guest list of one.”

Sam let out a derisive bark. “Oh right, the man himself is looking into it, so I should just sit around with my thumb up my ass and wait for him to give a signal that he’s figured it all out. Or better yet, I’m supposed to continue following orders...carrying out his master hunting plan, until I hear otherwise.”

“You think _you’re_ sick of this? _I’m_ so sick of _you_ using that old line when you want everything to go your way. I swear to God, Sam, shut the fuck up.” 

“No, Dean, not this time. Your way of handling things is to run yourself beyond ragged, until you can’t fucking see straight, so you don’t have to deal with whatever’s bothering you. That’s _your_ gig, _not mine._ ”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, leaning back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest and simply glared a challenge across the table.

Sam leaned forward. “Seriously, Dean, _just leave me alone._ ”

“Fine. You want alone? You got alone. Kate and I will handle the spirit ourselves. You go pout back in the room.”

_Crap._

“So she can’t help research what the fuck’s going on with me? That’s great.” Sam leaned back and glared at me. “Thanks for the support, Kate.”

Wait… _what?_

I looked up and blinked at Sam. His face was beet red, and he looked ready to explode. 

“Wait a minute, Sam, I wasn’t - “

“Oh, so now you’re gonna bow down to the fucking puppy eye thing?” I swiveled towards Dean, who now sat up straight, radiating that classic defensive nature of his. He gave me a scathing look that accused me of taking Sam’s side when I hadn’t even said anything.

“No! Dean - just hold on - “

“Fuck you both,” Sam muttered. He shook his head, grabbed his jacket, and abruptly left the bar.

“Sam!”

“Whatever. Go ahead and babysit the brat. I don’t care.” By the time I turned back to Dean, he had also grabbed his jacket, stomping past the blazing fireplace into the next room, where the pool tables waited.

“Dean, wait!”

Both men disappeared from sight, leaving me all alone, staring after them.

In the immortal words of Bobby Singer: _Balls._

**_xxxxx_ **

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from growing up Winchester, it’s that fights in this family are simply spectacular. Thankfully, I haven’t been in many of them. I’m usually the one caught in the middle, trying to broker peace between warring factions. Tonight was no exception.

I stayed at the table for almost half an hour, simultaneously hoping Dean would return all cooled off, and that Sam was calming down in the room.

No such luck on the former, and no clue on the latter. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket, revealing a text from Dean.

**made a friend. back in the morning.**

Translation: _Go back to the motel on your own...I'm getting laid._

That figures. Only _he_ would get a hook-up while in the middle of an epic sibling spat. I drained the last of my now-warm beer and sullenly left the bar. Noting that Dean had the keys to the Impala, I started the walk back to the motel. 

Suddenly wanting non-confrontational company, I pulled out my phone and called Bobby.

“You know it’s late, right?” Came his rough voice through the phone.

“You know you’re grumpy, right?” I responded with a forced lighthearted tone.

Bobby grunted and I heard him swallow what I assumed was whiskey. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?” 

I sighed, kicking a stray pebble in my path. “Bobby, I swear, I’m gonna kill them both.”

“I take it Sam’s still pissed at your dad for not sharing the demon blood research?”

I snorted. “And he’s taking it out on everyone else. Dean’s hunt-hopping routine isn’t helping things, either.”

“Well, you know how Dean is. He can’t help Sam, so he has to keep busy or he’ll blow up.”

“I know, Bobby, but Sam needs some time to process it all. He’s such an ass when he can’t sit for a bit and think. _*sigh*_ They’re _both_ right and they’re _both_ wrong and - ”

“And they’re both putting you in the middle and ignoring your feelings. Yeah, that sounds about right for them. Both too stubborn to see things from any other side but their own.”

“Yeah, well tonight they had a fucking fight while we were at a bar, and then they both up and left me at the table like a blind date gone wrong.” I paused on the sidewalk. I was so focused on the conversation that I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. 

Some hunter _I_ am.

I looked around to make sure I wasn’t being followed or stalked or chased or anything. There was nothing to see...nothing to hear...but there was an uncomfortable chill in the air raising goosebumps on my arms as it rippled past. It took a second for me to realize I missed whatever Bobby said next.

“What was that?” I asked, increasing my pace a little. Something was gnawing at me, so I figured a little speed couldn’t hurt.

He chuckled. “I said, your dad called the other day, needing some info. Adam helped him out. Looks like he may have some leads.”

I sighed. “How _is_ Adam doing?” Once Dad disclosed his suspicions that Sam had The Demon’s blood in him, we’d barely been home. I knew Bobby was training Adam to do all sorts of shit besides hunting, and that he was coping with leaving school infinitely better than Sam had. I just felt incredibly guilty leaving Adam behind, but more guilty at not being with Sam and Dean. 

Although with the way they acted tonight, I was leaning towards staying with Adam.

“He’s actually doing well. He’s been a great help around the yard, helping me keep my records together and stuff. I’m teaching him how to handle the hunter lines and...fuck...it’s like...well. Almost like having you around, again.”

I briefly paused yet again on the sidewalk, before resuming my brisk walk. In a soft voice, I said, “I miss you too, Bobby. I don’t mind the hunting, but I miss taking a break once in a while and just visiting.”

I envisioned him nodding, taking off his baseball cap and laying it on his desk.

The image made me smile.

“Well, get your boys together and head home. We’ll sort through this like grown-ups.”

I laughed softly. “Sounds like a plan. Tell Adam…” I trailed off and sighed.

“I know, Missy. I’ll tell him.”

**_xxxxx_ **

I finally reached the motel. I knocked with the code, fit the key in the lock, and slipped inside, an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sam was so pissed when he left, and I didn’t know whether he’d cooled off or not. What was I walking into?

Sam was in bed, arms folded across his chest, eyes glued to the TV. He barely glanced my way when I entered, but his expression hardened. I mentally rolled my eyes and hung my jacket on the back of a chair. I knew this Sam. This was Sulking Sam, and potentially anything and everything would set him off.

I went for neutral. “Hey…”

“Hey,” came the clipped response. 

I stood for a moment deciding between trying to talk and letting it go. I opened my mouth to offer my support in the whole hunt-hopping angle, when Sam abruptly turned off the set with the remote and turned his back on me.

So much for that approach.

I lightly tossed my keys on the table and swallowed my frustration. Picking up my bag, I went to clean up.

After everything bathroom related was taken care of, I re-entered the main room drying my hair with a towel. I took one look at Sam’s full bed and Dean’s empty bed, and knew there was no fucking way I would share with either of them tonight. I suspected they were each waiting to see who I’d share with so they could potentially use that information in a case of favoritism or something. Plus, I was still stinging from being abandoned at the bar.

I can be pissy, too.

So...I grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and went to the couch. I heard a vague rustling from Sam’s bed. Ignoring it, I roughly made a bed on the tiny loveseat, then crammed myself into it.

Refraining from huffing or making noises that might be construed as potentially voicing an opinion on anything, I clutched one of the throw pillows to my chest and stared into the darkness. The silence was deafening, and I could feel the negativity radiating from Sam, filling the room.

There was another shuffling sound from his bed, then a muffled sneeze, followed by a sniff. Going for mature, I softly called out, “Bless you…”

The sound of Sam rolling over was my answer.

_Awesome._

**_xxxxx_ **

I’m pretty sure I’d just fallen asleep when a round of coughing woke me back up. It took me a second to remember I was alone with Sam, so the afflicted party had to be him.

I tossed back my blanket and stumbled to his side. “Hey...you okay?” I asked sleepily, helping myself to a seat on his bed while rubbing my eyes.

Sam was, big surprise, facing away from me, his face buried in a pillow. I automatically placed my hand on his back, just in time to feel a shiver run through him. 

Shit, was he getting sick?

Frowning, I slid my hand towards his neck in an attempt to gauge his temperature. He twisted and batted it away. “ ‘M fine.”

I _did_ huff, now, and returned his batting with a smack of my own. “Knock it off. You can be a ass later. Right now, lemme see if you’re running a temp.”

Even in the dim light, Sam’s bitchface was clearly visible as he glared at me. Well, half his bitchface. The other half was still burrowed in that pillow.

He quit arguing in favor of a frosty silence, trusting that I’d simply _know_ how he felt about this situation, and would then respond accordingly.

Whatever.

I shifted a little closer since Sam obviously wasn’t making this any easier. His neck and cheeks were warm - not overly so, but warm nonetheless. I swiped his bangs out of his eyes, running my fingers along his hairline. I sighed. “I think you’re coming down with something. I’ll get you some medicine.”

Sam shook his head, trying to wriggle deeper under his blanket. 

Being the bigger person who _did_ want to make this easier, I helped pull the scratchy cloth up to his chin. He swallowed with a grimace, avoiding my gaze as he turned away again. “Med kit’s not here. And we’re out of Tylenol anyway. I’ll be fine...jus’ need to sleep it off…” 

I took a hold of his chin, and gently turned him back towards me. _Oh, no you don’t._

Pulling himself from my grasp, he rolled onto his side while wiping at his nose. “It’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Sam…”

“I’m _fine_ , Kate.”

I dropped my hand into my lap and watched Sam shudder yet again as another chill gripped him.

_Fuck him._

I decided to call Dean, and tell him we needed the med kit and a pit stop at a We Never Close drugstore. If he couldn’t be bothered, then at the very least, we needed keys to the Impala. After yet another fight between him and Sam two days ago, Dean ended up with both sets of keys, effectively making Sam even more dependent on him. 

Did it occur to him that this nifty move affected me as well?

Nope.

I crossed the room to grab my phone off the charger, and turned it on.

Rather, I pushed the button to _make_ it turn on, but nothing happened. Scowling at my luck, I did everything you’re supposed to do in these situations - fiddled with the battery, pushed every button on the device, unplugged and replugged and threatened to throw the thing against a wall.

Nothing. It was completely dead.

_More awesome._

“Sam - where’s your phone?”

After a particularly spectacular huffy sigh, “Why?”

I demonstrated that I, too, could produce huffy sighs. “Because I need to use it and you need to just work with me. _Please._ ”

Sam’s huffy sigh became a resigned sigh. There was some fumbling on the bedside table, and he held out something shiny.

“ _Thank_ you,” I said, taking it and sitting next to him, forcing him to either roll away or just face me. He sniffled and settled back against his pillow, one hand almost-sort of resting close to my leg, as a peace offering.

I scooted closer as I dialed, carding one hand through his hair. He _definitely_ has a fever. As Dean’s phone rang, Sam sagged against the pillow, apparently too sick or tired (or maybe sick _and_ tired) to bat my hand away.

_Score one for me._

There was no answer, which really didn’t surprise me. Dean most likely turned his ringer off so he could focus on the task at hand. 

_Ew…_

I settled for sending a text, asking him to call, trusting that no matter how angry Dean got, if he knew we needed him, he’d be there. No questions, no arguments.

**_xxxxx_ **

No dice.

The morning sun was already peeking through the motel blackout curtains when Dean sauntered into the room, whistling like the world was his oyster.

I wasn’t in the mood for his post-lay glow, having been up with Sam for the majority of the night, wondering when Dean would check his fucking phone. 

Sam had finally fallen asleep barely an hour ago. The fever-headache-sneezing combo kept him from getting comfortable, and when the congestion started, he became a mass of whiny goo, conveniently forgetting that he was angry at me (FOR NO GOOD REASON). He desperately needed Tylenol, a decongestant and a damn box of tissues at the very least.

But there was no word from Dean at all. Until now.

I rose from the bed and walked towards him, not wanting Sam to wake when I beat the shit out of our brother. Dean didn’t miss that I’d been sitting on Sam’s bed, and his whole demeanor turned sour within a second.

That only pissed me off more.

“Is your phone broken or something?” I grated through clenched teeth, checking over my shoulder to make sure Sam was sleeping. 

“Nope.” He tossed his keys on the table and took off his jacket.

I waited a second, thinking there would be more of an explanation, but there wasn’t. 

“Why didn’t you answer or at least text me back?”

Dean gave me a pointed look before retrieving his duffel bag from a corner of the room. “ _You_ didn’t text or call.”

I resisted the urge to strangle him. “My phone was dead - I had to use Sam’s.” Then it hit me. “Oh my God. Because you thought Sam was calling, you just ignored it? Did you even _read_ the texts?”

Dean had the decency to look a tad guilty, but he simply shrugged and began shoving clothes into his bag. “I was busy.”

“Dean…,” I growled, but was interrupted by a fit of harsh coughing behind me. I turned to find Sam leaning over the side of his bed, coughing desperately, eyes clenched shut.

I flashed Dean a scathing look before returning to Sam’s bed. “He’s burning up and I had nothing to give him.” I sat down and handed Sam a glass of water. “Hey...sip this…” Sam peeked out of one eye, took the glass in a trembling hand, and managed a small sip.

“Thanks…” His voice was deep and raspy from the coughing.

Sam looked up and spotted Dean. Instantly, his face hardened, and he pulled away, as if our “truce” only existed in private. 

Now, I resisted the urge to strangle _him_.

Dean took a deep breath, obviously struggling between anger, concern, and guilt for his obviously sick brother who obviously needs a trip to the drug store. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Get ready...we’ll stop somewhere on our way out of town.”

Sam threw off the blankets, pushing past me to his feet. He sniffed and shook his head. “I’m fine - it’s just a cold. _It’s not like I have demon blood running through me._ ” He shuffled to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

“Fine,” Dean snipped back. “I’ll be in the car. Hurry up.” He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Once again, I sat alone, staring at the doors slammed in stubbornness and anger. I shook my head and wearily rubbed my eyes. 

Another long day.

_**xxxxx** _

Sam bundled himself in the back seat, trying to be as far away from Dean as possible. I offered to sit with him, but he said I’d be helping Dean plan the next hunt, and he just didn’t want to get in the way. I was doing no such thing, but apparently, what I’ll _actually_ do doesn’t compare to what he _thinks_ I’ll do.

Since Sam insisted he was totally fine (apparently the whimpering last night never happened), Dean decided to grab breakfast at a diner _before_ stopping at a store.

Such the ass.

Sam agreed to the plan, because he totally didn’t need any extra effort on Dean’s part to help him feel any better.

Such the ass times two.

Dean asked for a booth so Sam and I could sit together, since we were best buds, now. (Now?) Not to be outdone, Sam changed the request to a table, claiming he preferred the extra space for his legs.

I ground my teeth, wondering why I let them do this not only to each other, but to me as well.

I was about to flip them both off and ask for a stool at the counter, when the waitress waved us to a table in another back corner of the restaurant. I thought it was a little odd, since there were plenty of available tables scattered throughout the place, but one look at Sam explained her decision. 

His cheeks were bright pink from fever, and he was quietly coughing into a handful of motel toilet paper. His eyes were glassy and he was breathing through his mouth.

He was a real delight to look at.

I buried my nose in the menu, thinking I should nudge Dean and make him take a real look at Sam, when I heard, “ _Ehhhh-TSHHCHUH!_ ”

“Bless you, Sam,” I said softly, trying to decide between pancakes and an omelette, but really wanting a carafe of coffee, like, yesterday.

“That wasn’t me,” Sam replied glibly. 

I looked up in time to see Dean fumbling at the napkin dispenser, gearing up for another sneeze. Pushing past his hands, I snatched a few napkins, and thrust them at him. “ _HIH-NNGXT!_ ” He stifled that one against his wrist, using the napkins to wipe at his nose.

I raised my eyebrows at him. Dean pursed his lips together and opened his menu in a huff.

By the end of the meal, things had pretty much deteriorated into a complete mess. Sam’s fever was climbing, and his whole grain pancakes sat mostly untouched on his plate. He realized the stupidity of getting a table when there was no way to lean back and rest his head, let alone the obvious option of leaning on, I dunno, me.

More alarming, was Dean’s surprise decline. In-between repeatedly rubbing his temples and clearing his throat, he almost fearfully sipped his coffee, wincing as the liquid hit his throat. His nose started running before his breakfast got to the table. By the time we were done, he was shivering in his jacket.

What the _hell_ was going on? 

As we walked out of the diner, I noticed several patrons staring at us, disgust clearly on their faces.

Join the club. This was a bad idea even _before_ Dean’s symptoms showed up.

I brushed past Dean as he paid the bill, swiping the car keys from his front pocket, and held the door open for Sam. I went straight to the Impala and stood waiting at the driver’s door. 

Dean followed Sam outside, took one look at me, and immediately shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I do.” I jangled his keys at him. “I lifted these off you while you paid the bill.” Sam snickered. “And you didn’t even flinch. You’re not driving.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he began to frantically pat down his jacket and jeans pockets. Then they narrowed at me. “Give ‘em back.”

I shook my head, leaning against the Impala, and squinting at both of them. “You know what? Go fuck yourself. You wanna treat each other like shit? Be my guest. But you’ve both been treating _me_ like shit, and frankly? _I’m done._ So here’s how this is playing out. Neither of you are fine, and neither of you are driving. We’re going to get some supplies from a store, then we’re going to Bobby’s for a few days. Don’t like that plan? Hitch with someone else.”

I unlocked the car and got in, thrilled that now _I_ got to slam a door. I unlocked the passenger doors, and started the engine, holding my breath as I waited for them to make a move.

Sam caved first, crawling into the back seat and silently curling into a ball. Dean took a second longer, then climbed in the front next to me. He refused to make eye contact, preferring to stare out the window sullenly, his arms crossed.

“ _Great_. Let’s go.” I put the car in gear, and pulled out of the parking lot.

_**xxxxx** _

The seven hour drive to Bobby’s house was torture. Instinct told me to buy a few boxes of Kleenex and a variety of cold medicine just to be safe. We were 2 hours out of Sioux Falls, and I wasn’t sure if we’d make it without stopping for more tissues.

It didn’t take long for Sam to feel even worse than he already did, prompting repeated doses of Nyquil (despite my warnings) until he completely passed out in the back seat. My music (Note: _My_ music. HA!) was accented with congested snoring and almost whimpering. Even Dean glanced back there to check on him.

Speaking of Dean, it took maybe an hour for him to reach Sam’s level of misery. Forgetting his ( _also unfounded_ ) irritation with me, Dean slumped against my shoulder, shivering the entire ride. 

I wasn’t sure what super virus hit them, but it was simply nasty.

After a particularly violent bout of coughing, Dean pulled the last of the tissues from the last box.

Well, shit. We still had two hours to go.

“I’m stopping to replenish your supply of snot rags, gentlemen. Good time to use the bathroom.”

“ _F...fuck_...just...just keep going… _Hitttchhh!_ ” Dean wiped his nose on his sleeve and burrowed deeper into his jacket.

_Gross…_ “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

I took the next exit and practically ran inside the gas station mini-mart, grabbing as many boxes as I could. As soon as I paid, my phone rang.

“Hey Bobby...we’ll be there in two hours.”

“Okay...how’re they holding up?”

I left the store and made my way back to the car. Figuring I should gas up the Impala, I tossed the tissues inside and unscrewed the gas cap.

“They’re a fucking mess, Bobby. Something’s not right - I don’t understand how they got this sick this fast. It’s like it came out of nowhere.” I waited impatiently for the tank to fill, tapping my foot against the pavement.

“You think it’s something Supernatural?”

“I dunno...I suppose someone with a mutant virus could’ve sneezed on them somewhere. I mean, that’s not an impossibility. Once we get to your place, we can figure that out. Right now, they’re going through Kleenex like crazy, and maybe they need to see a doctor. I...I just don’t know what’s going on.” I ended my rant with a huff, slamming the gas thing back in the pump and rubbing my forehead.

I was starting to panic a little. I can handle sick brothers. That wasn’t a big deal. I can handle really sick brothers. That also wasn’t a big deal. This was beyond that. If they progressed to this level in such a short amount of time, how much worse were they going to get? Was there a clock ticking somewhere that I didn’t know about?

I needed to get home. _Now_.

“Hey, hey, hey...take a deep breath, Kate. Don’t lose it then get behind the wheel.”

I stopped right then, processing Bobby’s words. He was right. I leaned against the car, closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths. “Yeah...yeah, you’re right.”

“It’ll be okay - we’ll figure it all out.” He hesitated before asking, “Are _you_ okay?”

Funny, I hadn’t even considered how I was feeling. I did a quick mental check. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Then I huffed, as Bobby’s real question hit me. “It’s almost never about me, Bobby. You know that.” Oooh...touch of resentment, there?

Bobby sighed. “Kate…”

Not wanting to delve further into my own thoughts (I mean, why would I?), I pushed off the Impala and opened the door. “We’ll be there in a couple hours. Hope you have Kleenex.” I hung up, and got us back on the highway.

_**xxxxx** _

We finally pulled into Bobby’s yard, and not a moment too soon. Dean started clutching his stomach and groaning about half an hour ago, and I was afraid we’d have to pull over and visit with the shoulder for a while. Sam was still pretty much passed out from the Nyquil, which got me wondering how the hell we’d get him inside.

I pulled as close to the porch steps as possible. After killing the engine, I reached over to feel Dean’s forehead. He was so hot, that the panic I’d managed to control flared right back up. Glancing into the backseat, I watched Sam’s eyelids flutter open. His eyes were glassy, and he had this confused expression on his face, like he wasn’t sure who I was.

“Hey...can you hang out here a sec? Let me get Dean inside while you wake up?”

Sam’s brow wrinkled as he tried to look around. As soon as his head turned, he whimpered, closed his eyes, and curled into a tighter ball.

“I’ll take that as a yes...be right back.”

I sprinted to the passenger door and carefully opened it. Dean had been propped against it for a while, and I didn’t want him falling out of the car. If that happened, I’d never get him back up.

I squatted down and placed my hand against Dean’s cheek. He opened one eye and licked his lips. “We here already?” He croaked.

I snorted. “Yeah. Come on...put your arm around me…”

Dean coughed weakly and struggled to sit up. “I c’n do it…”

Sighing, I reached out anyway. “No, Dean, you can’t. Just let me help you.”

He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and I thought, for a second, that he was gonna _lose it_ all over me. But being Dean, he didn’t lose control. Instead, he lifted his legs out of the Impala as if they weighed a hundred pounds each, wrapped an arm across my shoulders, and let me help him stand. 

Together, we slowly made our way up the porch and into the house. 

“Bobby!” I called out, just as Dean pitched forward with a violent sneeze, almost losing his balance and face-planting into the floor.

Adam pounded down the stairs, smiling when he saw me, then frowning when he saw Dean. “What the hell happened?”

Dean took one look at him, then sneezed again. 

“Long story. Where’s Bobby?”

“He went to get some stuff from the store.” Adam hurried to Dean’s side and grabbed his other arm, helping me hold him up. “Where’s Sam?”

I nodded at the door. “Still in the car - he’s no better than this one.”

Adam shot me a panicked look over Dean’s head (which was was totally able to do since Dean was almost bent double). 

“Yeah...I know…” I said resignedly.

“Okay...I’ll get Dean upstairs, you get Sam.” Dean chose that moment to sag against Adam, taking a shuddering breath.

“Bathroom…” Dean croaked. 

Adam shot me another seriously panicked look before answering. “Okay buddy...bathroom it is.” 

I had a hard time letting go, but Adam slipped an arm around Dean and propelled him towards the bathroom. Over his shoulder, he said, “Go on - I got this.”

Nodding, I raced back to the car in time to see Sam slide out of the back seat and onto the driveway.

“Sam!” I skidded next to him, crouching down to help him sit up. He was coughing too hard to take a decent breath let alone move, so I waited, brushing his hair out of his eyes and rubbing his back.

He weakly shoved me. “Go back to Dean...’m fine…”

_For the love of -_ “Sam. Knock it off. Let’s get into the house.”

Sam on Nyquil was funny. Pissy Sam on Nyquil had the funny potential. Pissy Sam on too much Nyquil was like Pissy Sam times ten. 

Not funny at all.

He did let me help him stand and stagger inside.

I made a beeline for the stairs and somehow got Sam up them. We had to pause every fifth step for a cough or a rest. 

Good thing we’re not in a hurry.

When we reached the boys’ room, Sam stiffened and shook his head. “ ‘m not going in there.”

“What are you talking about, Sam? It’s your room.”

He shook his head again, coughing. “No, it’s _our_ room. I don’t want to be near him.”

Oh. My. God.

“Are you kidding me?”

Sam stubbornly shook his head, then rested it against the wall. Neither of us said anything. I was trying to figure out what to do, when he started to shiver.

_Goddammit._

“Fine. My room, then.”

He still didn’t look pleased, but apparently my suggestion was a decent one, because he shoved himself off the wall, stumbled into my bedroom, and flopped on the bed. I shut my eyes and counted to ten before following him inside and pulling a light blanket up to his chin.

“Mmmm... better…” Sam stretched out and hugged a pillow to his chest, falling asleep almost immediately.

Sighing, I checked his forehead. Still warm, but not blazing hot anymore. Probably the Nyquil still working.

After one last tucking in, I went back downstairs to check on the other one. As I reached the bottom step, Adam was helping Dean to the couch.

“Whoa...hey - let’s get upstairs to your room.” I took Dean’s arm and started steering him towards the stairs.

Pulling out of my grasp, Dean shook his head and pointed at the couch. “This is fine...closer to the bathroom.”

I raised my eyebrows at Adam, who simply shrugged his shoulders. “He didn’t want to go upstairs…”

Sighing again, I stepped in front of Dean, placing a hand on his chest to stop him. “Dean, you’ll be more comfortable upstairs, in a bed. And you know there’s a bathroom up there.”

Sniffling, Dean raised his eyes to mine. They narrowed as he spat, “I’m not sharing a room with him.”

I clenched my jaw, and spat back at him, “He’s in my room,” thinking that would fix everything.

Then I realized the error of that judgement call.

Dean’s lips pressed together and he nodded his head. “Figures. Couch is fine. Thanks.” He pushed past me and lowered onto the cushions, slowly stretching the length of the sofa and sighing as he lay his head down.

I just stood there, feeling like no matter what I did, it would be wrong. I could’ve explained that Sam wasn’t in my room to be closer to me. I could’ve thrown Sam to the werewolves and explained that he didn’t want to share either.

But I didn’t, because I shouldn’t have to, and mostly because it wouldn’t matter anyway. Torn between hurt and anger, I just stood there, my hands clenched in the hem of my shirt.

Adam approached us with a blanket, pillow, and a glass of water (I didn’t even hear him leave), eyes jumping between Dean’s furrowed pout, and my overall distressed/pissed off demeanor. I blinked at him, and Adam’s expression shifted into one of resolve.

Taking charge, he covered Dean, gave him the pillow and helped him sip from the glass. "Just rest, okay? I'll check on you in a bit."

Dean grunted and rolled over.

Taking me by the elbow, Adam ushered me into the kitchen. I was just drained and tired. Tired of being angry. Tired of constantly feeling like nothing I did worked the way I planned. 

And I didn’t like feeling this way. At all.

He stood in front of me, hands on my arms and bending slightly to look into my eyes. “Hey...Kate…?"

I was gearing up for some sort of...it’s no big deal, or it’s okay, or my favorite: I know...they’re sick and not thinking clearly. 

But they’d all be lies. It _was_ a big deal. They were behaving this way before they got sick, and I felt anything but okay.

Still, the lies were ready to tumble out of my mouth, until the back door banged open and in came Bobby, carrying half a dozen bags.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity for deflection, “Whoa! Hey, Bobby - lemme help you!”

Adam sighed, and dropped his arms. “Yeah…” 

We reached out to take the bags, the noise of plastic rustling filling the kitchen and the gap I effectively placed between myself and my baby brother.

“Where are the boys?” Bobby asked, pulling supplies out of the bags and onto the table.

I snorted, helping him unpack boxes of tissues and various medicines. “Sam’s in my room, and Dean’s on the couch.”

Bobby paused, and wrinkled his forehead at me. “Why aren’t they just in their room?”

“I was just about to ask that when you came in,” Adam said, giving me this weird look as he put a kettle of water on the stove.

Taking hold of a particularly large box of Kleenex (seriously - the box was huge), I sat heavily in a chair. “They’re both too pissed at each other to stay in the same room. So I gave Sam my room, and Dean, thinking Sam was in their room, chose the couch.”

Bobby scratched his head. “So, neither of them bothered to see where the other one was?”

I shook my head, no.

Adam came over to the table, idly glancing at the many boxes and bottles on display. He avoided making eye contact, instead appearing to scrutinize the labels. “So...was Dean being a bit dickish because he thinks you’re favoring Sam by putting him in your room?”

The kid’s smarter than we give him credit. Sighing, I nodded.

Adam shook his head. “That’s fucking stupid.”

Bobby grunted in agreement. “They’ve been bickering like old ladies for a while, now. This sickness shit is just ramping it up a notch. Okay...let’s give them until morning to decide if they need a doctor or not. Meanwhile I cleared out Wal-Mart so let’s pass this shit out, then figure out dinner.”

Nodding again, I reached for a box of Kleenex when Adam swatted my hand. “He didn’t mean you. You’ve dealt with them enough. Have a beer or...fuck, go to the bathroom or something.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but one glance at Bobby made me shut it. They could handle passing out Kleenex. I backed off and leaned against the counter, not trusting myself to say anything that wouldn’t sound resentful or resigned. 

They gathered what they needed, then left the room as Adam gestured towards the living room. “I’ll take Dean...you grab Sam.”

Bobby grunted and I heard his footsteps softly padding up the steps. Adam stepped back in the kitchen. “Kate?”

I looked up. “Yeah?”

“Bathroom.”

I blinked. _Oooh,_ right, I needed to go. “Yeah…”

xxxxx

After dinner, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I hadn’t checked on them in a couple hours, and despite being pissed off, I needed to see how they were doing first hand. Multitasker that I am, I could be pissed and worried at the same time. 

I slipped into the living room and sat next to Dean on the couch. He was resting peacefully, and I didn’t want to wake him. I gently lay my hand on his forehead. Frowning, I felt his cheek and neck. 

No fever. Not even a little warm. 

_Huh…_

Feeling gypped out of being needed, I rearranged the blanket and checked his face once more.

Still nothing. I should be more relieved, but something didn’t seem right.

I went upstairs to see how Sam was faring.

The light from the hallway lit my room. Sam was sprawled across my bed, on his stomach. He still held my pillow tight in his grasp, and he looked peaceful. Gingerly, I sat down and reached over to check _his_ fever.

Or rather...lack thereof.

What the hell? A couple hours ago, they were on their deathbed making me thinking they’d be hospitalized by morning. Now, they were sleeping quietly, no trace of illness whatsoever.

I brushed Sam’s bangs off his face and he rubbed his nose against my pillow. Maybe they just needed some Tylenol and solid rest away from each other. And maybe me, too.

Okay, that last part was unnecessary, but I was confused and admittedly a little irritated that I couldn’t get them feeling better on my own. 

Reminding myself that _this wasn’t about me_ , I went back downstairs.

Bobby and Adam were in the kitchen cleaning up. Ugh...now I felt guilty for sneaking off and not helping.

Without turning around, Bobby said, “Grab a towel and help dry. Stop feeling bad. How’re the boys?”

Sometimes, I hate him for knowing me.

Picking up a towel, I leaned against the counter until a dripping dish came my way. “Um. Well...they’re great, actually. No fever, no discomfort...they’re both just...sleeping.”

Both men turned to me. Adam frowned. “What’re you talking about? Tylenol’s good, but there’s no way it removed Dean’s fever and his other symptoms in two hours.”

I shrugged, placing the now-dry plate in the cupboard. “Go see for yourself. Temps are normal, no sweating, no groaning, no coughing, no sneezing...nothing.”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed. He shut off the water and strode from the room, wiping his hands on his pants.

Adam followed, curiosity clearly visible on his face. I stayed behind to finish the dishes.

A few minutes later, they returned, both looking completely confused.

“You were right...fever’s gone.”

I shot Bobby a _no shit_ look. He rolled his eyes. 

“So...what was all that, then? Just a...what...twenty-four hour bug?” Adam asked, looking from Bobby to me and back again.

I shrugged. “I dunno. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Bobby scratched the back of his head. “I agree with Kate. My alarms are going off...I just don’t know what they’re alarming at. I’ll poke through my stuff...see if I can find anything. You, missy, should get some rest.”

I glanced at the wall clock. “Bobby, it’s barely nine…” My protest would’ve worked splendidly if I didn’t end it with a jaw-popping yawn. 

Bobby chuckled. “You were saying?”

Grumbling, I rubbed my eyes. “I guess I’m in their room, since Sam’s in mine.”

Adam shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If something’s screwy with them - “ Bobby and I snorted. “ - you shouldn’t go in their room. I mean...what if it has something to do with more than just their bodies?”

I swung my gaze up at Adam. “Really?”

He narrowed his eyes at me, and folded his arms across his chest. “Hey - I’ve heard of weirder shit happening to hunters all the time. Didn’t you guys tell me that Dean was turned into a five-year-old not that long ago?”

I gave him a look conceding his point, then pursed my lips, not asking the question I was too embarrassed to ask.

“You can share with me tonight, and we’ll regroup in the morning.”

I blinked at Adam’s take-charge attitude, and glanced sideways as Bobby. He smiled and shrugged before shuffling off to his library.

Grabbing my bag, which was still sitting in the hallway, I followed Adam upstairs.

I hadn’t been in Adam’s room since he got really settled here. Down the hall from mine, it was small, but neat, filled with everything he owned. A double bed sat off to the side, next to a small desk covered in books. Clothing littered the bed, and Adam quickly gathered it up with a tight smile.

“Sorry - haven’t had time to put it away.”

I laughed a little, hugging myself as I looked around. This felt a little weird. 

Adam paused and looked at me, arms full of laundry. “This feels a little weird, doesn’t it?”

“A little,” I admitted. “But...I feel more tired than weird, so…” I sighed. “I’m, um, gonna go to the bathroom real quick…”

Adam nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll change then hit the bathroom when you’re done.”

When I got back, Adam gave me a nervous smile and left. I climbed into bed, sighing as I pulled up the covers. Soon after, Adam shut off the light, and crawled in next to me.

We lay there, quiet, for a while. Adam took a deep breath, let it out, then, “Kate…”

I rolled to face him. “You know...I’ve shared a bed with Sam and Dean plenty of times. Even Dad. It’s not like this is a big deal.” I fiddled with the blanket’s edge. “Except I guess it is. I mean...aside from them…” I sighed and fell silent. I could almost feel him processing my words, hoping he’d get my thinking without making me say it.

He sighed and nodded. “It’s okay...I get it. Just...don’t hog the covers.”

We smiled at each other, and he closed his eyes, settling on his pillow. I stayed awake a while longer, waiting until he fell asleep. 

The dynamic of having Adam around during a hunt-crisis was bizarre. I wasn’t used to having someone else around to help Bobby help me manage the two of _them_. Dad either wasn’t around, or was too busy taking Dean’s side. 

Once his breathing evened out, and the telltale limb twitching began, I closed my own eyes, and drifted to sleep.

_**xxxxx** _

I woke slowly the next morning, enjoying waking up on my own and not from a weird noise or a panic-stricken family member. I felt a little odd, and upon opening my eyes, I realized why. Adam lay curled up on his side of the bed, covers still evenly distributed. 

_Huh_.

I stretched and yawned, enjoying the space.

“Oh...you’re in _here…_ ”

Well. I _was_ enjoying it.

Sam stood in the doorway, watching me with a weird expression on his face. 

“Hey…” I started, sitting up and blinking away the last of the sleep. “How’re you feeling?”

Sam shrugged and tilted his head from side to side. “A lot better...not perfect, but close.”

I crossed the room and stood on my toes to feel his forehead. No fever. I blew out a breath, and rubbed my eyes. “Jesus, Sam, you had me so worried. You were such a mess on the way here.”

Sam cleared his throat, eyes on the floor. “Yeah, I can see how worried you were,” he muttered.

I blinked at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing...I’m going to take a shower.” And he walked off.

I made a move to chase him down, but Adam’s grip on my shoulder pulled me back. “Let him go.”

“But - “

“It’s not worth it. Look - we don’t know what’s going on with them, yet. We can beat them up later when we have more answers.” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned, stretching towards the ceiling and almost touching it.

I stared at him, and muttered, “Your inner Bobby is showing.”

Adam grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” His face grew serious, and he ran his fingers through his short blond hair. “Look, I know they’re getting to you, and I know they were assholes before the whole sick-thing started, but for all we know, something’s in the water, right? So...I dunno...beat _me_ up if you need to take it out on someone. I just...I don’t like seeing you upset. So. Yeah.” His shoulders slumped a little and the grin from before was now a sheepish smile.

I reached up and kissed his cheek. “You’re officially my favorite.” He laughed. “And since Sam’s in this bathroom, I’m gonna go pee downstairs.”

I could hear Adam still laughing as I jogged down the stairs. I _really_ had to go. After taking care of what needed taking care of, I noticed Dean was no longer on the couch. I wandered into the kitchen, and there he was, making coffee and humming like yesterday didn’t happen.

“Hey there…” I started, making a beeline across the kitchen to his side. 

He turned, giving me a look up and down before facing the coffee pot once more. “Mornin’.”

“That’s it? ‘Mornin’ ‘?”

He glanced at me sideways and cleared his throat. “It’s morning, isn’t it?”

What was with the attitude?

I reached up to feel his forehead. He batted my hand away. “I’m fine.”

Okay, I’m done. Again. “You weren’t fine yesterday, so shut up and let me see if you still have a fever. I’ve been worried about you so just fucking humor me.”

Whoa...that earned me a look of wrath. “You were so worried that you left me down here alone all night. Hmm...funny definition of worry. No fever - checked myself this morning. All’s good.”

I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I thought of ten different ways to respond at that moment. Then I remembered Adam’s words. In an effort to calm down, I took a couple steps backwards to get me out of punching distance.

Ignoring me, Dean continued to make coffee and grab some breakfast. I studied him - no stumbling footsteps, no visible sign of a fever, no coughing, no congestion...just like Sam.

I decided to find Bobby and have him deal with the two of them. Obviously my participation wasn’t necessary.

Just as I started to go, Sam walked in, hair wet from his shower. He took one look at Dean and turned around.

“Oh, don’t leave on _my_ account. I was on my way out.” Dean finished buttering a piece of toast with a flourish.

“I can come...come -- _Hehitschew!_ \-- back…” Sam sneezed forcefully into the crook of his arm, blinking a few times after.

“Shit!” I looked at Dean, and saw him sucking coffee off his hand. His mug now sat on the counter, surrounded by a puddle. Another tremor shook Dean’s body and he almost dropped his plate. I managed to grab it just as he let go, turning away as Dean coughed to the side.

“All better, huh?” I jabbed.

Behind me, Sam sneezed yet again, and muttered something about Kleenex. He left the kitchen, and I heard footsteps on the stairs.

Dean cleared his throat, his wrist in front of his mouth. He looked a little pale.

“Um. Dean? You okay?” I took his arm and maneuvered him until he stood directly in front of the sink. Just in case.

He nodded, swallowing convulsively. “Yeah...I...yeah...gimme a sec…” He leaned against the counter, his breathing shaky. Grabbing a paper towel, I wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“C’mon...sit down…” Confident he wasn’t going to hurl all over me, I guided Dean to a chair and pushed him into it. He sat for barely a second, before sighing and leaning against me.

_Finally_.

Then came a sneeze from the stairway...

….and he pushed away.

_Goddammit_.

Practically growling, I called out, “Sam - get back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Dean’s shivering stepped up a little, and he too, started sneezing.

I heard footsteps going back upstairs, punctuated with harsh coughing and maybe Sam blew his nose. I needed to focus on one brother at a time. 

I swiped a hand across Dean’s forehead - warm...not hot like yesterday, but definitely warm. I sighed. “Back to the couch, okay? I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

Dean rubbed his forehead and dragged a hand down his face. “What’s going on? I swear I felt fine just a few minutes ago. I even used a fucking thermometer, Kate. I didn’t have a temperature.” I could hear the frustration in his voice, and some of my anger melted away.

“I don’t know. Just...go lie down, let me check on Sam real quick, then get Bobby. Something’s not right.”

I waited for the huffing at Sam’s name, but none came. Instead, Dean nodded and shuffled to the couch.

Score.

I met Adam on the steps. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Sam’s in your room sneezing like there’s no tomorrow. He was fine just a few minutes ago!”

I shook my head. “Something’s up. Would you go find Bobby? I think he’s out back. We need to figure this out - now.”

I heard Sam before I saw him. The rate of sneezing slowed somewhat by the time I entered my room. He released one more before flopping his hand against the mattress and eyeing me wearily. “What the hell is this? I was fine a few minutes ago.”

Pleased with the now friendly tone, I sat next to him. “That seems to be the question of the day,” I commented, feeling his forehead. Warm - just like Dean’s. As soon as I touched his face, Sam pitched forward with another sneeze, and coughed into a blanket.

“Jesus, Sam…” He fell against me.

“This isn’t normal,” he rasped.

I rested my cheek against his hair. “I dunno what it is, but I’m going to find out. I know you just woke up, but you look wiped out. Lay down for a bit and let me talk to Bobby, okay?”

Nodding slowly, Sam lay back onto a pillow and closed his eyes.

_**xxxxx** _

After a quick breakfast, I sat on the porch with Adam and Bobby, sipping from a mug of coffee and watching the clouds roll by. The dynamic between Bobby and Adam was interesting to watch. There was a nice rhythm present, and I could tell Bobby relied on Adam as much as Adam needed Bobby.

I was thankful it was working out, because if it wasn’t...where the fuck was Adam supposed to go? Luckily, Bobby needed someone else around to help with the yard and all the hunting responsibilities, and I knew he liked the kid a lot. 

I glanced at Adam, who sat next to me on the swing. His brow was furrowed in concentration as we slowly swung back and forth. Despite being a Winchester, he wasn’t a part of the Winchester drama. At all. He had no history with any of us, so he just reacts as he sees it. It was refreshing, actually.

He caught me watching him, and let out a huff. “What?”

I shook my head, taking a drink. “Nothing.” I leaned back and took a deep breath, appreciating the quiet.

Adam lifted an arm and pulled me closer until my head rested on his shoulder. “Whatever,” he said, smiling.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He does that I lot, I realized. I bet he keeps a record of all the shit he’s seen us do. 

Bobby shifted on the wicker chair he added to the porch decor and got that _I’m thinking_ look on his face. Catching my eye, he pointed at me with his mug. “Tell me again what happened...leading up to this whole mess.”

Once again, I explained everything, from the final fight at the bar, to the breakfast fiasco. Adam ran his thumb along my arm when my tone became a little...indignant. 

When I finished, Bobby looked across the yard, making a “ _huh_ …” noise into the mouth of his mug. 

Then he sat straight up. “Wait. What did they say to each other at the bar… _exactly?_ ”

“Shit, I dunno, Bobby, I was trying to stay out of it...I didn’t catch every word.”

He stared at me intently. “Try.”

Huffing, I started to sit up, but Adam pulled me back. 

_Relax and think._

Startled, I peeked up at him. He raised both eyebrows and nodded.

I settled back against him and sighed. “Okay. Um. Sam said he was sick of the nonstop hunting and how Dean was dealing with the demon blood thing. Dean said he was sick of Sam’s attitude and using the same old...fight…”

Comprehension smacked me in the face. All three of us sat up straight.

“They said they were sick of each other,” I whispered, looking from Adam to Bobby.

Adam nodded and scooted forward. “So something made them literally sick…”

“And from the looks of it, it’s when they’re together.” Bobby finished the group conclusion by raising his mug in a mock salute.

“Wait a minute, Bobby...what about at the motel? Sam was sick that whole night, and Dean wasn’t even there.”

Bobby’s face fell, as he thought that over.

Adam piped up, “Yeah, but...Dean’s stuff was there, right? And he’d been sleeping in that room for a couple nights already. Maybe the idea of their presence will work just the same.”

“One way to find out,” Bobby said.

Dean was still sleeping, so we went upstairs to Sam, who was quietly reading a book in bed. He looked perfectly fine, just like this morning. He looked up at us three, standing in the doorway, watching him.

“Okay, that’s fucking creepy,” he said, closing his book and setting it aside.

“Did you fall asleep?” I asked, trying to determine how long it took him to start feeling better.

He nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, surprisingly, I did. I woke up about ten minutes ago. What’s going on? Did you figure out what’s happening to me?”

Inwardly, I snorted. Still all about him.

“Maybe,” Bobby said. “We want you to go to your room for a minute.”

Sam’s face closed off. “Look, Bobby, I don’t want to -”

“Dean’s not there,” Adam cut in. “He’s been downstairs all night.”

Sam looked at me, his gaze thoughtful.

Finally, he answered. “Yeah, okay.”

He got up and walked purposefully to his room. Sam opened the door, and stood inside. Clothes were scattered here and there, on top of and surrounding two full sized beds. Sam looked around. 

“So...what am I looking for?” He cleared his throat, and began picking up stray shirts and socks off the floor.

The three of us looked at each other. Bobby answered him, “Not sure, son. Just...wait a minute and let’s see.”

Sam dumped some laundry in a hamper, and sniffled. Bobby’s eyes narrowed as he leaned on the doorframe, watching Sam carefully.

Suddenly, Sam whipped around to face us. “Okay, you’re just standing there staring at me. What’s going….on--” He broke off and sneezed. “I don’t get what you’re looking at.” He sneezed again.

I handed him some Kleenex, which he took with a smile. After blowing his nose, he blinked a few times, as if clearing his vision. “Whoa…”

Then he swayed a little.

I grabbed his arm, and helped him sit. “Sam…?”

“Fuck...My head’s killing me all of a sudden, and I just wanna… _HeHITSCHEW!_ Oh, God…” He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.

“Okay, we’re done. Back to my room...c’mon…” With Adam’s help, we got Sam back into my bed. He curled up, coughing into the pillow. I started to stand, when Sam reached out and took my arm, pulling me back to the bed.

From beneath his bangs, I could see the worry in his eyes. “What’s going on?” I brushed those floppy bangs out of his eyes and gave Bobby a desperate look. Bobby sat at my desk and leaned on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him.

“Well, looks like you two idjits got yourselves cursed.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “What? How?”

“Well. Seems that someone overheard your little spat at the bar last night, and took your words to heart.”

Sam frowned. “What words?”

“Let me refresh your memory,” I said. “If I recall, you said you were sick of Dean and his coping mechanisms, and Dean said he was sick of you and your whining.”

Sam’s mouth opened, then promptly shut. Yup - he remembered.

“But that’s...this is...I mean…”

Adam broke in, “How’re you feeling?”

Sam blinked at him. “What?”

“How are you feeling?”

You could see Sam floundering with a better rationale than being cursed, but he had nothing. and judging from the sound of his voice and the distinct lack of physical pain and cold symptoms…”Holy shit...I feel better. Not perfect, but...a lot better.” He stared at me, the worried eyes replaced by panic. “So, what, I get sick being around Dean or anything related to him?”

I nodded slowly. “Apparently, yeah.”

Sam was thoughtful for a moment, taking this all in. Adam gestured at the door. “I’m gonna go break the news to Dean.”

Bobby liked that plan. “Good idea. We need to talk to both of you, somehow, without you both falling apart.”

Adam nodded and left the room. 

I nudged Bobby’s knee. “What are you thinking?”

Bobby scratched his head. “Well, we need to figure out how close they can actually get. If we need to go hunt whoever or whatever placed this curse, we’ll probably need both of them to do it. So knowing what the boundaries are will be a tad helpful.”

I left Sam alone to process (see - _I_ know to do that), so that _I_ could process (because that also needed to happen). Then it hit me. “Bobby...this means we have to split up.”

Bobby nodded. “Most likely. Judging from how you said they were doing when you got here, prolonged exposure is gonna make things worse. And we don’t know _how_ much worse.”

I dropped my head to my hands and sighed. This was delightful.

_**xxxxx** _

We spent the next few hours testing out how much space the boys needed between them without making themselves sick. It was a mostly ridiculous exercise, but Bobby was right - we needed to know the rules for this situation.

Once figured out, it made things a little easier. There was approximately 20 feet of required distance in order for symptoms to barely exist. Any closer, and they literally made each other nauseous. They definitely had to stay out of their own room, and barriers like walls and ceilings helped tremendously.

Now we knew how to interact with them - where they could go, where we could go, who we could see where, and when. It was helpful, yes, but it was a mess, too.

Apparently this didn’t matter to Sam and Dean, since they had no interest in being around each other anyway.

“This is stupid,” Dean grumbled. “He doesn’t wanna be near me, I don’t wanna see him, so who the fuck cares how close we can get?”

Sam was more practical. “Good. Now I don’t have to worry about avoiding him. I like curses that come with the victim in mind.”

At least we had a nice early warning system when one approached the boundaries. Sam’d break off mid-sentence sneezing if Dean’s bathroom break took him too close to the kitchen. Dean threw up over the porch railing one afternoon when Sam came downstairs unannounced. 

Ultimately, Dean ended up in Bobby’s garages out back, working on cars during the day, giving Sam the run of the house. Around dinnertime, he came back in, and Sam went upstairs. There wasn’t a discussion on it, it just happened one day, and then stuck.

I was spending most of my time with Adam, both wanting some distance from my grousing brothers and enjoying the chance to spend some time with the brother who wasn’t unpleasant. We researched some lore on sickness curses, and finding nothing, we turned towards looking up whether witchcraft was a problem in the town from last night.

I walked into Adam’s room with a laptop open to the local paper’s website, trying to determine if any weird events were happening there to help pinpoint who cursed the boys. 

“Hey Adam, take a look at this…” I stepped into the room, eyes still on the laptop. I started to sit on the bed.

“Wait a sec!” Adam yelped. I glanced up in time to see him gathering a whole mess of papers. There were unopened and opened envelopes, legal pads, an address book, and various letters covered in fancy letterhead scattered everywhere. 

This wasn’t curse research - this was a pile of legal notices.

“Um...what’s going on?” I closed the laptop and sat on a now empty corner, eyeing my younger brother carefully. His cheeks burned bright red, as if he just got caught doing something illegal.

He bit his lower lip, deciding what to share. The struggle was evident on his face, and the last thing I wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

But I knew something was wrong.

“Adam…”

He sighed explosively, gesturing at all the paperwork, while tossing a pen on top of it. “I...it’s my mom’s estate stuff. I’m supposed to go back to Wisconsin and sign a bunch of papers, and sort through all this crap with her lawyer. They won’t send anything to me, they won’t really talk to me on the phone….they want me there in person. I...I don’t think this is a trap...I knew she had money in some accounts, and I just...I mean, I don’t know…”

Adam slumped against his headboard and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to do,” he finished in a whisper.

I set the laptop on the floor and scooted closer. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His eyes swivelled up at me. _Really?_

I flushed guiltily. “Okay, okay. I know why you didn’t say anything. But that doesn’t make it right.” I sighed. “Look, as soon as this mess is cleared up, I’ll take you back to get it all straightened out, okay?”

Adam blinked at me. “Really?” _This_ ‘really’ had a hopeful tone to it, like he was afraid to believe I’d actually help.

I didn’t think I could feel shittier about Adam being shoved aside for the last few months. Turns out, I could.

“Yeah - I promise. A brother-sister bonding road trip.”

He shuffled the papers together in one messy pile. Keeping his eyes off mine, he asked softly, “They’ll really let us go?”

Adam’s acknowledgement that he doesn’t think he’s really a part of this family or someone that deserves any sort of attention hit me like a brick, settling in my gut uncomfortably. He’s been keeping his own wants and needs way off to the side in an effort to find a place in this new life. 

I knew exactly how he felt. I mean, isn’t that how I live my life on a daily basis?

I was more than a little ashamed that I didn’t pay more attention sooner. Once upon a time, I was the last one in, and therefore first one out. That hasn’t been an issue for me in years, but now Adam’s entrenched in that reality, and he’s struggling with it.

“Hey…” I reached out and took him by the chin, lifting his face until I could see his eyes. “We’re not asking...we’re just going. You and me. I’ll keep you safe, we’ll sort this out, then we’ll come back home. Understood?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yeah...yeah, okay. Do you...do you think they’ll want to come along?”

I knew he meant Sam and Dean, and not Dad. He had Dad figured out already.

I let go and played with his blanket. “Do you...want them to go?” Surprisingly, I didn’t. The focus of this trip was Adam, not the latest whatevers from those two. Besides...right now, I wasn’t keen on going anywhere with either of them.

“I...do you?”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Kiddo - it’s your trip. If you want them to come along, then - “

“No. I mean…” He sighed. “Can it just be us?”

I watched his eyes go round with silent begging...the Adam version of The Eyes. Christ - it must be a family thing. “Absolutely.”

“Thanks...a lot...seriously.” He rubbed his eyes, hard, and tossed the pile of paperwork onto his desk. “That whole thing is so fucked up, and I just…” He dropped his hand to his side. “I don’t know how I’m gonna react to going back there.”

I nodded, understanding what he was hedging around. He was afraid he’d lose control when he goes back, if the grief over his mother’s death overwhelms him, and he didn't need that on display.

I pulled my knees to my chest and patted the bed next to me. He sat down, our shoulders touching. “Well...I guess we’ll find out together, okay?”

He sighed again, nodded, and rested his head against mine.

_**xxxxx** _

The South Dakota skies decided the South Dakota land needed a good soaking, and it’d been raining since the early morning hours. There was a wet chill to the air, which sounds weird until you’re feeling it. Dean had been in the garage for a couple days, popping back in for a quick meal before sulking back outside. I wasn’t sure if he came back in to sleep - he was always gone by the time I woke up.

Even though Sam had Dean-less freedom in the house, he generally stayed in my room or in a part of Bobby’s library. He was moody and antisocial for the most part, and we pretty much let him be.

On the third day of constant rain, Bobby suggested we start looking for other instances where people got sick being around each other rather than focusing on possible causes. Maybe finding another incident would give some information. Luckily, we had a whole country’s worth of local papers to search through online, so we had plenty of reading to keep us busy.

_Hooray…_

But after a few days of nothing, we were willing to try anything new.

I went to my room to check on Sam and mention the new research plan, you know, in case he ever decided to help break the curse he was under. For the fiftieth time, I thought over why we were working harder than them on this situation.

Sam was lying on his side, laptop open. I got a glimpse of the screen before he snapped it shut.

“Roman mythology?” I asked, totally confused.

Sam looked guilty as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Um...yeah. It...they may...I mean, the gods are cool, you know?”

He managed a smile while moving the laptop so I could sit next to him.

“Oh, they’re definitely cool, Sam. No worries, there. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re reading about them. There’s no demon-Roman god crossover action, is there?” I sat down and crossed my legs at my ankles, enjoying being back on my own bed.

Sam huffed and hunched further down the bed, folding his arms in front of him. “No, there’s no crossover. I was just…” He huffed again and looked out the window.

Nudging him with my shoulder, I gently asked, “You just what?”

Sighing, Sam dropped his gaze to his lap. “One of the goddesses, Vesta, is the goddess of families and the hearth. I figured maybe...maybe she, um, had something to do with this.” He gestured vaguely with his hand.

“The curse? You think a Roman goddess caused it?”

“Well…”

“And, I’m sorry, hold on...you’re researching the curse?” I asked incredulously. That earned me another huff and, _oooh,_ blushing. “Sorry...no, really. I just...I’m surprised. You’ve been hell-bent on living this curse for the rest of your life, so I’m just trying to understand the change of heart.” 

I had a feeling that this whole avoidance thing was taking its toll on both of them. Sam loved to bitch about Dean, and was certainly capable of being on his own. But I also know he called and texted and pined the whole damn time he was in Palo Alto, even with Jess, and he wouldn’t have gotten through it if Dean hadn’t been there for him, even if his “there for him” wasn’t literally “there”.

Sam thunked his head against the wall and sighed again. “I was an ass, okay? There. I said it. I was an ass, and I see that now.”

I didn’t answer - I could tell there was more he needed to share. So I leaned my head on his shoulder and felt his head rest against mine. 

He added softly, “And I was an ass to you...and I’m sorry.” I nuzzled my cheek against his shoulder as an acknowledgement of his words. I was rewarded with a kiss in my hair. “I get what he was doing. I know I tend to...get emotional about shit, and I need to act _right now_ , regardless of whether there’s anything I can actually do. I just...it’s demon blood, Kate...in me...in my body. I...I don’t know how to react to that. I don’t know what it means, I don’t know why me, I don’t know what’s gonna happen. He knows how I get, how I obsess, and I know he was just trying to help. There’s no lore, there’s no nothing in the books about this. Dad was right. Moving around, gathering intel on the road, keeping busy...that’s what we needed to do. That’s why he did it, and I get that now. I just couldn’t see it before. And...and now I just _know_ my mom was killed for this, and probably Jess was killed for this...so it’s all...my fault...and…”

“Okay there, hold on.” I sat up and took a good look at him. He had tears in his eyes, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Sam…”

He shook his head and sniffed, eyes still focused on his lap.

“ _Sam!”_ He looked at me in a huff, and big fat tears rolled down his face. 

My heart broke right then and there for him. _Those fucking eyes._ I shifted on the bed so I was fully facing him. Taking his face in my hands I brought my forehead to his. “ _Nothing_ is your fault. You feel responsible, I get that, but the reality, is that even if you’re central to whatever Azazel wants, you didn’t cause what happened to your mom or to Jess. If it were anyone else in this situation, you’d say the same thing, so you know I’m right.”

Sam rolled his eyes, so I shook him a little. “Besides...while I don’t disagree with what you said about Dean, he still shoulda given you some space. The hunt-hopping doesn’t work for you unless you have a chance to sift through what’s going on first. Sometimes he leaps to what he knows is best for you long term, and forgets what you need short term.”

He whimpered a little and took a ragged breath, sliding his head down to my shoulder and sighing softly. I hugged him to me, letting him get it all out, glad that the drama, at least on this end, was over.

_**xxxxx** _

While helping Bobby in the kitchen later that night, we heard a loud crash from upstairs, followed by Adam swearing. After shooting each other a confused look, we ran upstairs.

Sam was sitting on the toilet seat, holding a washcloth to his head. Adam was digging out a first aid kit from under the sink, muttering angrily. “Dude - if you were dizzy, why the hell didn’t you say something?”

Sam shook his head, wincing at the pain. “Thought I was okay...didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Before I could stop him, Adam snapped, “We’ve been bothered all week for this stupid fucking curse. You being _really_ sick isn’t a bother.”

Bobby turned away so Sam couldn’t see him, trying really hard not to laugh. I punched him on the arm before stepping into the bathroom. “What happened?” I took the washcloth from Sam and saw blood, both on the cloth and dripping down the side of Sam’s face.

Sam blushed. Adam answered for him. “Genius, here, is sick, _for real_. He didn’t say anything to anyone, came in here, got dizzy, and blacked out...knocking his head on the sink in the process.” Adam took the washcloth from me, dabbed at the gash and examined it closely. “Gonna need stitches.” He held out two Tylenol. “Take these, get back to bed, and I’ll come in there and stitch your head closed.”

Sam kept his mouth shut, like a chastised child, and rose, unsteadily to his feet. I pulled his arm across my shoulders and guided him back to my room...which I was starting to think would never be mine again.

I helped Sam to the bed, tucked him in, then lit into him. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” I felt his forehead, and sure enough, it was warm.

Sam scooted further under the covers. “Because like Adam said, everyone’s been running around like crazy over us being curse-sick. I figured you’d all been through enough. It’s just...it’s just an upset stomach. I think I ate something that didn’t agree with me. It isn’t a big deal.”

From behind me, Bobby chimed in. “Or, it means something’s shifting within the curse, in which case, it is a big deal.”

Sam blushed a brighter red, and gave us a real healthy dose of The Eyes in full pleading mode.

“Jesus Christ, Sam. Put those fucking things away. We’re not mad, we’re worried. I’ll get back to the searching.” Bobby backed out of the room and went downstairs, muttering the whole way.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing, which was easier to do once I got a look at Adam’s face when he entered the room. 

Thunderous was an understatement.

He had everything he’d need to stitch Sam up, plus a thermometer and some Tylenol. Sam shot me a fearful look, and I decided that after the last couple months, he kinda deserved a little lashing.

“I’m gonna go check on Dean, make sure he’s still okay. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

Realizing he was on his own, Sam nodded, and meekly waited for Adam’s orders.

Adam made no comment at my decision. He just nodded tersely and started threading the needle.

_**xxxxx** _

I jogged through the rain to the main garage out back, wondering what I’d find inside. 

Pissy Dean? Drunk Dean? Bitter Dean? Contrite Dean? A combination?

After Sam’s admission earlier, I felt a _little_ more armed to deal with my oldest brother - even though he’s the one who refuses to hold conversations about _things._ Still. He _at least_ needed to listen.

Right?

Dodging various car parts and car sections, I wound my way towards the back of the shop, where I knew Bobby had this old crappy couch on which Dean loved to lounge in-between fixing up cars. The shop was damp and cold, making me shiver within my jacket. 

“Dean? You in here?” My call rang flat throughout the garage. The only sound echoing throughout was the rain on the roof, and the occasional clap of thunder, causing various items to rattle.

“Over here,” came the husky sounding reply. I walked around an old Charger, and found Dean under its hood. He glanced over at my approach and stood slowly, wiping his hands on his bandana. Nodding at me, he asked, “What’s up?”

I leaned against the workbench, fiddling with a couple sockets. Shrugging, I answered, “Not much, just came out to see how you were doing. Haven’t really seen you much lately.” 

Dean grunted and tossed a shiny metal wrench-like tool onto the table, making me jump as it clanged against half a dozen other tools. “I’ve been _here_. You know that.” He cleared his throat and took a long drink from a bottle of water that sat on the roof of the car. He leaned against the Charger, facing me, but not making eye contact.

“I know you’ve been _here_. But you haven’t really been in the house for a couple days.” I tilted my head, trying to get a closer look at his face. Something wasn’t right.

He shrugged and took another drink. “You’ve been busy. Didn’t want to get in the way.” He shoved himself off the car and shuffled to the couch. He let out a soft groan as he sat, and dragged a hand down his face.

His voice sounded awful - raspy and harsh - and I could now see his mouth drawn in a tight grimace. 

Oh, shit.

“Hey…” I sat next to him, noting that he didn’t pull away. He didn’t move closer either, but at least he didn’t move in the other direction. I pulled my legs onto the couch and played with the zipper pull on his jacket.

Dean sighed and gestured towards the car with the water bottle. “I remember when you were little...you’d sit in here and watch Bobby and me work on cars.” He shook his head a little at the memory. “You sat right here on this couch for, like, hours, when you weren’t with Sam. I don’t know what you found so interesting. I mean, it’s not like you love cars or remember a lot of what we did, but shit, you’d just watch and watch.” He lowered his eyes to the water bottle on his lap, and began to peel off the label.

I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. It’s rare that Dean says this kind of stuff, so I wanted to make this as easy as possible. To that end, I just nodded and smiled at the memories. I remembered the times when Sam was studying or balls-deep in research, and I knew that my presence would distract him. I always headed to the garage and hung with Bobby and Dean, never interfering with them either; I was just there. Watching.

The plastic bottle crinkled as the label came off. He ruefully chuckled. “I always thought you were bored, you know? I mean, what girl wants to watch two grumpy guys argue over fixing an old car?”

Sensing that this pause was where I needed to jump in, I said, “I didn’t watch you guys fix cars. I just watched you. Okay, that sounds creepy…” A corner of Dean’s mouth curled upwards. “...but I mean...I liked watching how satisfied you were working on cars. There was a problem in front of you that needed fixing, and you knew you could solve it and make someone happy, without anyone being in danger. I liked your energy. I liked how Bobby ruffled your hair. I liked watching the most...amazing big brother, once again, make everything okay.”

Well, that came out a lot more corny than I meant it to. 

But he started it. 

I felt the sting of tears in my eyes as the sentimentality hit me, and I dug my nails into my arm in an effort to stop them from falling. This wasn’t the time or place. I wanted to stay focused on the problem at hand. 

Dean scoffed and unscrewed the cap to his water. “I don’t make anything okay. I fuck things up more often than not. Somehow you and Sam just...make it through regardless.” He took a quick drink and continued, before I could think of an appropriate response other than, “nuh-uh!”

“Sam hated being in here. If he had to be here, he needed a book. Or paper so he could write. Or a toy to play with. He had no interest in watching me, learning from Bobby or Dad, nothing. He always had his own path. And you...you bounced around like a ping pong ball, always making sure your time was spent equally between us.” He wiped his nose with the bandana and sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I know he’s different than me. But I know what he needs. Only this time, I guess I missed my mark.” 

Another sigh. “Demon blood.” He shook his head. “I...I don’t even know where to start with that one. I know Dad’s trying like fuck to figure it out. I know Sam needs to research. But there _is_ no research. I know Dad’s looked...and I knew Sam’d get frustrated and upset and do the whole freaking out thing. So, I figured...keep moving, keep hunting, keep busy.”

He looked at me then, and I could almost feel the regret seeping out of him. “I figured wrong.” His eyes went back down to his lap. “So now, he’s angry because I fucked up, and you’re angry because you did what you always do - stand up for both of us and try to work it all out - and I shit on you, like I shit on him.” He let out a derisive laugh. “And by the time I realized all that, you were solid with Adam and Sam, and I thought it’d be better if I just...stayed out here.”

I blinked at him. “I was with you until this last part. What are you talking about? What do you think’s going on in the house while you’re out here? Hmm?”

Dean just shrugged again, sinking a little into the couch.

I tugged on his jacket until he looked at me. “You really think we’re all hanging out in there, while you’re out here all alone?”

Another fucking shoulder shrug, followed by a lowering of his head.

“Dean - what the fuck is wrong with you?” He looked up sharply at that. I shook my head at him. “Seriously - you have some majorly fucked up wiring. Sam’s been a sulking disaster in my room this whole time, just like you’ve been a sulking mess out here. Neither of you have been cooperative in the least throughout this whole thing. The only grouping has been Bobby, Adam, and I, and only because we’ve been trying to research this curse...something both of you should’ve been doing all along.”

He swallowed and sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. I knew what he was thinking...that he fucked up again. So I tried to head that off as well.

“We’re ready for this curse to be over. Sam’s ready for this curse to be over. I think you’re ready, too. So how about we focus on that, okay?”

I reached out and ran my fingers through his hair. Frowning, I added, “And you need to come inside, take Tylenol for this fever you’re sporting, and get warm. No more hiding out here.”

Dean’s eyes closed at my touch, and he now leaned towards me, resting his head against my chest. “You’re not mad at me anymore?” His words were muffled against my shirt, and I heard the hope behind them.

I kissed the top of his head. “Nope.”

“And Sam?”

“You’ll need to talk to him about that. But my early assessment says no.” I wrapped my arms around him and gave a squeeze. “C’mon...let’s go inside. Both of you are sick without being around each other, and we need to make sure that’s normal and not curse-normal.”

Dean pulled back and sat up, eyeing me carefully. “Sam’s sick?”

...And cue the overbearing big brother. “Yeah, but he thinks it’s just food poisoning or something. We’re not so sure. But it _is_ curious that you’re both feeling crappy at the same time. Although you’re out here in shithole weather while under stress, so I can’t really say I’m surprised.”

Dean rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah...yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

_**xxxxx** _

By the time we made it back to the house, we were both soaked. The sky dumped on us during the short jog to the house, and the chill plus the wet made Dean look even more miserable when we entered the kitchen through the back door.

Adam and Bobby were at the table talking when we stumbled inside. They both froze when we entered before quickly getting up and grabbing towels for us.

“It’s a little wet outside…” I started. Bobby snickered, handing me a hand towel. I peeled off my jacket and ran the towel through my hair.

Dean leaned against the counter and wiped the water off his face. I could now clearly see how pale and tired he looked.

So did Adam.

“Shit, you look worse than Sam...and that’s after the stitches. Go get changed and I’ll grab you some Tylenol.” He turned to me. “Ever thought about buying stock in that shit? We’d make a killing.”

I laughed and snapped my towel at him, almost missing the look Dean tossed us.

_Almost._

“What stitches?” He demanded, looking from Adam to me and back again. 

Oh...whoops…

“Sam got a little dizzy earlier and bonked his head on the bathroom sink. That’s all. He’s fine.” I finished with a little smile, as if that would stave off the worry.

Wrong-O.

“You didn’t tell me he needed stitches. Why didn’t someone get me when this happened?” Dean stomped off to the living room, leaving us standing there with our mouths open. 

I was going to supply a witty retort, but Adam beat me to it. Only minus the witty.

“Hey - why the hell would we tell you? You could’ve cared less about him all week.” Adam followed Dean into the living room, pausing when he noticed Dean peeling off his wet clothes. With a huff, Adam turned around, but kept talking. “He’s _fine_. It was just a gash, and I took care of it.” He folded his arms and stood there, indignant and annoyed.

Bobby and I followed more slowly, waiting to see how Dean would react. Adam already snipped at Sam, so it was really only a matter of time before he let Dean have it. 

We heard Dean sigh amidst a rustling of fabric. “Yeah. You’re right. And...I’m sorry. I just...yeah. I’m...gonna go check on him.”

Adam whipped around. “That’s just gonna make you both worse.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, grimacing as it came away wet. “I know. I won’t stay long. I just...I need to know he’s okay.” Without waiting for a response, he shuffled past Adam and went upstairs.

Adam huffed again and threw his hands in the air as he walked back towards Bobby and me. “I give up.”

Bobby smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome to Winchester drama. It’ll be fine. It’s good that Dean came around a bit. Let him do his big brother routine. We have extra Kleenex, and we know that once they separate, they get better.”

Adam nodded, but still rolled his eyes. He stopped once he saw me. “You go upstairs and get changed. I don’t wanna deal with you sick as well.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Yessir.”

Adam grunted and stalked off towards the kitchen. Bobby watched him go and gave me an amused look. “He’s worried. And frustrated.”

“And stressed out. Has he told you about the crap with his mom’s estate?” I asked.

Bobby nodded, and sighed. “He mentioned that you offered to take him back to get it all settled. I think that’s a good idea. Get you away from them…” He nodded at the stairway. “...and gives him a chance to bond with you a bit.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Hopefully we can go soon.”

“Yup. Now go get changed before he grounds you.”

I stuck my tongue out at Bobby, then went upstairs. Slowing down as I reached my room, I could hear Sam and Dean talking in low voices.

“How’re you feeling? Are the stitches okay? Need me to fix them?” _Translation: I’m sorry I was such a dick._

“They’re okay - he did a good job. Thanks for checking them, though.” _Translation: It’s okay - I’m sorry, too._

Then, silence.

I chose that moment to go into Adam’s room and change into dry clothes (well, dry pajamas) before returning to my room (which I was now kinda hopeful I’d get back). I stopped to use the bathroom, too, figuring I wasn’t in a rush. When I was ready, I knocked gently and pushed the door open. Leaning against the frame, I surveyed the scene before me.

Dean and Sam both sat next to each other, legs stretched the length of the bed, shoulders touching. They were both fast asleep.

I stepped into the hallway and softly called for Bobby and Adam. They showed up within seconds. I pointed into my room.

“Huh...lookit that.” Bobby pulled at his beard thoughtfully.

Adam shook his head. “They both look like they have the flu, but it’s nothing like before…” 

I nodded, turning back to the boys. “Does this mean it’s over?”

Still pulling on his beard, Bobby shrugged one shoulder. “Dunno. Let’s go downstairs and mull this over.”

“Wait...think it’s okay to leave them like this? I mean...what if -”

Bobby cut me off. “Missy - I think they’re fine. And if they aren’t we’ll know. Leave them be for now.” He went downstairs, with Adam and I trailing behind.

The three of us reconvened on the porch, to _mull this over._

Only instead of coffee, we had beer.

“So, what changed?” Bobby asked.

I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. “Well, neither was mad at the other anymore. Each thought they were in the wrong…”

Bobby nodded and took a drink. “Okay, so we’ve got two repenting brothers…”

Adam quickly swallowed, gesturing at us with his beer can before adding, “Who are both sick on their own - away from each other.”

I sat up. “So...they were sick of being around each other...and now they’re sick of being away from each other?”

Bobby laughed. “This is one helluva curse.”

I looked from Adam to Bobby. “So how do we know if it’s passed?”

Bobby shrugged, his beer can on his lips. “We won’t until it is. Give it ‘til tomorrow, test the waters. If they’re still okay, then chances are this thing ran its course.” He tilted the can and almost emptied it. “I suspect they’ll have to deal with whatever bug they caught, but it shouldn’t be anything like what they had with the curse.”

He gave us a look and added, “You both should get some rest. You have a trip to take soon.” Grunting, he got to his feet, and went inside. 

I looked at Adam and smiled. “Tomorrow, let’s get everything together. If this curse is broken, then we’ll leave the next day, okay?”

But Adam wasn’t listening. He covered his face and sneezed, shaking his head afterwards. “Sorry...what?”

I bit my lip and felt his forehead. “You ass. Why didn’t you say something? No wonder you’ve been so touchy.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It fucking figures I’d catch a curse-cold.”

I tugged on his sleeve. “C’mon. Tylenol and bed for you. Let’s see how you’re feeling tomorrow and we’ll plan the trip then.”

Nodding, Adam yawned and followed me up to his room.

_**xxxxx** _

**_Somewhat Lengthy Epilogue…_ **

Adam and I stared at the knife. He found it tucked away in his mother’s dresser, nestled between an old t-shirt and some socks. The jagged edge made us both nervous, not to mention the elaborately carved symbols that decorated the handle and blade.

“Why the hell would she have this?” He asked, eyeing the knife fearfully.

I shook my head. “I have no fucking clue. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Let’s get it to Bobby and Dad - if anyone can figure it out, it’s them.”

Nodding, Adam gestured for me to take it, then placed his hands behind his back, taking a step away from the table. I tucked the blade back in its sheath, before sliding it onto my belt. “Okay...do we have everything else?”

Adam gave the room a casual sweep. “Yeah, I think so. Everything I want is in the boxes we packed in the car...all the lawyer crap is in this folder, and the check is here with me.” He patted his jeans pocket, giving me a tight grin. “I guess that’s it. Um...thanks for bringing me here. I...I never thought I’d be able to get back in here for this stuff.”

I smiled at him and squeezed his arm. “I’m glad we could, too. Honestly - after how things went the last time we were here, I was doubtful. But it’s been quiet...so I guess the danger has passed.”

We heard the sound of ruffling feathers, then a low, raspy voice from behind us. “The danger has not yet passed, but rather lulled for the moment. It is advisable, however, that you both leave immediately.”

Whipping around towards the voice, I shoved Adam behind me and drew my gun. I felt Adam’s hand on my shoulder and the tremor that shook him. “Who are you?” I demanded.

The guy made no move towards us, but that didn’t make me trust him. He stood on the opposite side of the living room, clad in a suit and a trenchcoat. 

Seriously? Who the fuck wears a trenchcoat?

Perverts, I heard Dean say in my mind. I tightened my grip.

“You have no reason to fear me. I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, still on his side of the room, his expression unreadable.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I barked. I re-aimed my weapon, letting him know that I had no qualms shooting his ass.

The man eyed my weapon, almost sadly, before sighed dramatically. “My name is Castiel. I’m an angel.”

I heard Adam’s sharp intake of air, and I felt an initial wave of doubt, followed by a _hold-on-a-sec_ sensation. If there were demons...why couldn’t there be angels? Just because -

“Just because you haven’t encountered us before, doesn’t mean we aren’t real. There was no reason to reveal ourselves prior to now.” He nodded at the gun. “Of course, if you shoot my vessel, I’ll only heal it. So…” He gave me a questioning look, asking me to believe him.

Not quite.

“I’m open to the possibility of angels’ existence...but that doesn’t mean I should automatically believe that you are one. How do I know for sure?”

Yet another dramatic sigh, followed by some cliche light flashes, and we saw the shadow of two enormous wings, seeming to sprout from his back.

Adam leaned close to my ear. “That looks pretty impressive.”

“True,” I agreed. “But Sam does great shadow puppets, too. I need more than that.”

As if sensing my thoughts, Castiel took a step towards us, staring intently into my eyes.

_I’m an Angel of the Lord, Kate. You have to have some faith._

I blinked rapidly and stared at him. Did he just speak to me in my mind?

_I did. I’m sorry - I don’t normally do this - but I need you to believe me so we can move forward._

There was something in those eyes. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it...the blue was mesmerizing, the intensity practically electric, pulling me to him. I wavered only a second before lowering the gun and tucking it back in my waistband.

Adam nudged me, and I muttered, “What choice do we have? He has powers, we have no powers...we can sort whatever story he dishes later. Right now, I’m willing to bet we’re outgunned.”

Castiel frowned at us. “I don’t have a gun, or any other conventional human weapon.”

Adam and I shared a look. “Right…it was an expression.”

He blinked at us. “Oh. Expressions. Yes, okay. I’m...I’m not very good with expressions.”

“I’m beginning to see that. So, why do we need to get out of here?”

Castiel nodded. ”Demons are watching this house. They know you are here, and I’m not sure if they will seek you out, or let you pass unharmed.”

I crossed my arms. “Okay, so what happened here? The demons told us they saved Adam’s life, and that only _they_ were capable of killing the monster that went after Adam’s mom.” I knew Adam was literally on edge, hoping for closure on this issue but afraid to know the truth.

Castiel looked at Adam. “I’m so sorry about your mother. She was a good vessel.”

Adam’s jaw dropped. “Wait...what?!”

I narrowed my eyes as Castiel. “What do you mean she was a good _vessel?_ ”

Castiel frowned once more. “You were unaware that your mother was a vessel for an angel? Aira was sent to watch over you, Adam, and your mother agreed to be her vessel.”

“Agreed?” Adam’s voice broke on that one word question, practically squeaking.

Castiel nodded. “Demons possess whomever they choose. That is their way. Angels require the permission of their chosen vessel. We do not invade humans.”

In a much softer voice, Adam asked, “How long?”

“How long what?” Castiel asked.

“ _How long was she a fucking vessel?_ ” Adam practically spat.

Castiel flinched at the vehemence behind Adam’s words, as if not quite understanding what the problem was. “She was Aira’s vessel for almost five years.”

_Five years._..five years of his mom not really being his mom...

Adam stumbled to the couch and dropped into it. He was at a loss for words, clearly struggling with this news. He held his head in his hands, shaking a little. I moved to stand next to him, so he would remember I was there. “Castiel...what happened to Adam’s mother?”

Castiel shoved his hands in his pockets. “Heaven is currently divided, with two emerging factions pitted against each other. One side, still trying to follow God’s commands, placed Aira here to keep Adam safe. The other side, is wanting to bring about the Apocalypse, which places Adam’s life in danger.”

I held up my hands. “Hold on - where’s God in all this? How could he allow warring angel factions?”

Castiel stiffened at my words, and his eyes almost looked sad. “That is...difficult to answer.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, but he didn’t offer any more. Rolling my eyes, I asked the next golden question. “So who killed his mom, and why is he so important?”

The angel relaxed a bit. “Somehow, Aira‘s allegiance shifted, and she was no longer invested in keeping Adam safe...in protecting the Winchester line. The Winchester bloodline is directly connected to the Apocalypse. Placing them in danger, places the Apocalypse in danger. The demons heard of this shift, and since Azazel is trying to bring Hell’s version of the Apocalypse to light, they conspired with angels to kill Aira...and in effect…” He looked directly at Adam. “...your mother.”

Adam shifted on the couch. “So what you’re telling me, is that an angel, with the help of a demon, killed my mom, because I’m a Winchester?”

Castiel thought that over. “That’s an overly simplistic way of viewing it, but I suppose it’s accurate, yes.”

I was listening carefully, trying like hell to digest the angel’s words as he talked. “Hold up - so are we all in danger, then?”

Castiel shook his head. “I cannot be sure anymore. The previously prophesied sequence of events has been irrevocably altered, making it impossible to predict the future. I only know vague pieces. Adam’s situation, though, was inevitable. He was destined to carry the Winchester line, if all else failed, even if only halfway.”

I took a deep breath. “You mean the John and Mary Winchester bloodline…”

“Exactly.”

“So, I’m only halfway in danger, too? It’s Sam and Dean who need to worry?”

The angel sighed again, and his shoulders actually slumped. “That’s...trickier. You - you are the reason the timeline has been altered.”

I didn’t think I could be more attentive, but that line did the trick. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You weren’t supposed to exist. You were...unexpected. Your presence shifted events incredibly, leaving the original prophecies useless.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that. But I came up with something. “I wasn’t...I mean...I’m not a part of the original script? This show was supposed to launch without a third Winchester?”

Castiel frowned. “I’m assuming that is another expression, because I’m not referring to a fictional entertainment program, I’m discussing reality. And there _were_ supposed to be three Winchesters...just not… _four_.”

“Oh…” And then I joined Adam on the couch. Adam shifted closer so our shoulders and knees bumped together. My gaze flickered to him, as I realized that now I needed _his_ presence to feel better.

Because there’s nothing quite like an Angel of the Lord telling you that you shouldn’t exist.

I drew a shaky breath as Adam slumped against the back of the couch. “So what...I mean...now what?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “They’re coming. We need to go.”

We both jumped to our feet. “Wait a second...we have to -”

Castiel was in front of us in three steps, placing a finger on both our heads. 

“- get the….car…” The three of us stood in Bobby’s living room. Sam, Dean, Bobby, and Dad were hunched over Bobby’s desk, all staring at some book. They looked at us, open-mouthed, as we just popped into view.

“Oh….hey, Dad…” I offered a feeble smile. Just as they all reached for a weapon, Castiel blinked out of sight.

_I’ll gather your things and bring them as soon as I can._

“Wait...Castiel!” I called out, turning circles in the room, as if I’d find him hiding behind a lamp. “Godammit, get back here!”

“Kate?! What the fuck is going on?” Dad demanded, walking over to us while also searching the room.

I sighed and ran a shaky hand through my hair, as Adam plopped onto the couch, his eyes clenched shut. “Grab a beer...this’ll take a while.”

==end==


End file.
